


Twisted

by Jingletown



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, M/M, bc i listened to it while writing, listen to spring day when you read this, platonic taejin, spring day, with hints of vmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jingletown/pseuds/Jingletown
Summary: Taehyung never expected his last words to his best friend to be, "I hate you."But, then, Taehyung also never expected Jin to wind up in a coma.





	

Middle-of-the-night phone calls went one of two ways.

The first was preferable. It was good news, wild news, something crazy, the beginning of a great story like that time Namjoon called him after midnight on a school night to invite him to an impromptu house party at Hoseok’s. They were celebrating, he’d explained proudly, that Hoseok had finally lost his virginity, and if Taehyung didn’t come over (and didn’t pick up Jungkook on the way), then he wouldn’t be supporting their young Hoseok’s definitive leap into manhood. That was the kind of twelve-thirty phone call that Taehyung didn’t mind getting.

Then there was the _other_ kind of middle-of-the-night phone call, the kind that brought entirely different types of news to Taehyung’s sleepy ears. The first example that sprang to mind was the time that Yoongi ingested an unidentifiable-but-still-definitely-illegal substance at an after-prom party and subsequently began to trip balls, climb up onto the roof of a friend’s two-story home and threatened to jump. That call had also been made by Namjoon, the unofficial leader of their little band of misfits, telling him to get there as soon as possible but not to contact any authorities or alert his parents.

The goal was to get Yoongi down, not to get him thrown in jail for the night.

And so, when Taehyung’s phone rang that night, he was really hoping for the first option. Actually, he was hoping for a butt-dial or a wrong number, something that wouldn’t pull him from his warm, happy bed. It was Friday night and after trudging through a whole eight-hours’ worth of last-day-before-spring-break nonsense, Taehyung’s senioritis was in _full_ effect. All he wanted to do was sleep, sleep straight through until about 11:30 Saturday morning, but his phone, vibrating and blaring _Welcome to The Jungle_ , had other plans.

Squinting at the screen, Taehyung saw Namjoon’s name and breathed a sigh of simultaneous relief and annoyance.

“Hyung,” he mumbled dreamily, “I am so tired. Can this wait?”

It couldn’t.

Not this time.

Namjoon only spoke seven words and Taehyung was up, diving out of bed, tripping over his backpack and searching frantically for a clean pair of pants.

“Jin and Hoseok were in an accident,” he’d said.

Jin and Hoseok were in an accident.

_Jin and Hoseok were in an accident._

Taehyung repeated it in his head over and over again trying to make the words make sense. Every time, it seemed to get louder, a horrifying crescendo that was building into something awful. It was a cacophony that he couldn’t fathom, seven words tripping over themselves, twisting like pieces of jagged metal and shredding the inside of his brain.

He couldn’t fully understand what else Namjoon was saying. He made note of the hospital and that was it. Everything else was just more noise, something like a shout into the void that was Taehyung’s mind. His phone was pressed to his ear, cradled between his shoulder and his head while he wiggled into a pair of jeans and located his wallet and keys, but it was all white noise.

In his haste, he’d accidentally kicked the cat on the way down the hallway and the feline screech was enough to wake his mother and steo-father. Half-asleep and concerned, they emerged from their room and asked what on earth he was doing but just Taehyung mumbled a vague response and waved them off, more-or-less ignoring them on his way out the door. It was disrespectful and totally unlike him but Taehyung didn’t care.

Some things outranked a proper response to his parents, and this was certainly one of them.

Jin and Hoseok had been in an accident.

It wasn’t a long drive, but to Taehyung, who was barely breathing and barely blinking, it could have been five minutes or five hours. In his twisted state of mind, he couldn’t tell the difference. One minute he was in his driveway, jumping into his beat-up old Ranger, and the next, he was at St. Peter’s hospital.

He parked crooked, didn’t bother locking his doors, and took off in a full-sprint to the main entrance, narrowly avoiding an elderly couple on his way in. He was panting by the time he reached the front desk, hopelessly trying to explain to the woman behind the desk what was happening and who he was looking for. It was then that he realized he should’ve listened more carefully to Namjoon’s phone call. He might have been giving him helpful information about where to find the rest of the group.

“Taehyung!” someone called and he spun on his heel, tired eyes searching the room for the source of the voice and the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders when he saw Min Yoongi.

“Hyung,” he said miserably, running to him. Yoongi was a few inches shorter than Taehyung but the younger boy bent so that he could bury his face in Yoongi’s jacket. He felt like a little kid being consoled by his big brother but, then, that was what was happening, wasn’t it?

“I know,” Yoongi sighed, his hands tangled soothingly in Taehyung’s hair.

Taehyung leaned back, not bothering to hide or excuse away the tears in his eyes, then said, “Hyung, your hair.”

Yoongi snorted, humorless, and said, “Yeah, I dyed it at school. What do you think?”

The last time Taehyung had seen Yoongi, his hair was mint green. It was an odd color, too light for the season (spring hadn’t yet arrived the last time Yoongi was in town) and they’d called him Mint Yoongi for days before the joke eventually got old and they moved on to terrorizing Jungkook instead. Now his hair was black, slightly shorter. It made him look older.

“I like it,” he said, dumbfounded. Yoongi’s hand was still on his head, petting the way one comforted a fussy toddler, and Taehyung looked behind him and into the waiting room. “Where is everyone? How are Jin and Hoseok? When did you _get_ here?”

Yoongi answered his questions out of order.

“I got in this morning,” Yoongi said. He was a junior at a prestigious music school about two hours west of where the rest of them resided. “I wanted to spend today with my family and surprise the rest of you tomorrow.” He shrugged his slender shoulders, sheepish. “Jungkookie is here somewhere, maybe walking around. You know he gets restless. Namjoon is calling people. And I don’t know how Hoseok and Jin are.”

Taehyung tried to ignore that last part.

“Where’s Jimin?” he asked, realizing Yoongi had left him off the list.

“He’s on his way back,” said Yoongi. At some point, he’d dropped his hand down to Taehyung’s shoulder and begun guiding him to the brightly-lit waiting area. “Jungkook said he’s with his cousins up north for spring break, that he left on Wednesday. Don’t you remember?”

Now that Yoongi mentioned it, Taehyung did, in fact, remember. But Wednesday, suddenly, seemed very far away.

“Did someone call him?” Yoongi nodded and guided Taehyung down onto one of the benches nearest to the window.

“Namjoon did,” he explained. “He’s on his way back but it’s a bit of a drive. Nearly three hours, I think. Namjoon told him not to rush, said we don’t need anyone else getting into an accident. There’s nothing Jimin could do if he was here anyway.”

 _Except make us feel better_ , Taehyung thought.

There was something about Jimin, something comforting. In age, he was the penultimate member of the group but he sure didn’t feel like it. While he could be loud and obnoxious, Jimin somehow brought the calm. Everyone felt better when Jimin was around. And even though it was just him, Yoongi and a bunch of stony-faced strangers in the emergency room waiting area, he really wished Jimin was there to make it better.

“Their parents?” Taehyung asked, realizing he was running out of questions. “Jin and Hoseok’s?”

“Hoseok’s mom is here,” Yoongi explained calmly, not at all bothered by Taehyung’s interrogation. This wasn’t his first interaction with Taehyung – he knew a persistent line of questioning was how Taehyung dealt with stress. “His dad is out-of-town but Namjoon was able to reach him. Jin’s parents will be here any minute.”

Taehyung was nodding, though he couldn’t remember when he’d started doing that.

“Okay,” he said, even though none of this was okay, not one tiny bit. “Okay.”

It was another six minutes before Jungkook came back, and another thirteen before Namjoon returned. They all hugged and exchanged somber looks and when they were all sitting down, Taehyung looked to Namjoon for the only answer that seemed to matter.

“What happened?”

“Car accident,” said Namjoon. “Jin and Hoseok went to get burgers and some drunk asshole ran a red light, plowed into the side of them and flipped Jin’s car.”

They all responded with stunned silence. Even Yoongi looked surprised, something they didn’t often see from a man known for his endless, unshakable stoicism.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook said quietly.

“Are they okay?” Taehyung asked but all Namjoon could do was shrug.

“I have no idea,” he said. “The hospital called Hoseok’s mom and Hoseok’s mom called me. She needed to get here as soon as possible, of course, so I volunteered to try and find his dad.” Hoseok’s dad worked the night shift at a popular security firm in the area. Most of the time, his phone was off. “I managed to get into contact with him and tell him what little we _do_ know and he’s on his way. As for Jin’s parents, the hospital took care of that, too.”

“I hate just sitting here,” Jungkook said, his teeth clenched. “I hate not being able to _do_ anything.”

While Taehyung agreed, that wasn’t what he was thinking about. He was wondering how Jungkook got to the hospital. The kid was only sixteen, too young to drive himself anywhere. Besides that, he didn’t have a car. Had he been hanging out with Yoongi or Namjoon when it happened? Had one of them gone to pick him up? Had his parents dropped him off, then left? That didn’t seem like them. Normally, Taehyung was the one in charge of taking Jungkook from Point A to Point B.

Really, without him, how did the kid get anywhere?

He swallowed hard, his mouth feeling dry like cotton or sand.

He checked his phone. Not even an hour had passed since he’d taken Namjoon’s call. He knew it wasn’t a realistic demand, but really wished Jimin was there.

They were all best friends, all seven of them. Sure, they grouped off in their own little ways (Namjoon, for example, had always been very close with Yoongi, and Jungkook had always been tight with Jimin) but more often than not, it was all seven of them. Even with Yoongi away at school, they found opportunities to be together, the full group, even if it was just for one crazy night.

There was an age difference, of course. Jin was the oldest at twenty-two and Jungkook the youngest at sixteen. But most of the time, it was barely perceptible. Their bond ran way deeper than ages and grades and they’d been through so much that a few years among friends didn’t seem like very much at all.

But nothing like this. They’d never gone through anything quite like this.

Taehyung’s phone was blowing up with texts from his worried parents but he couldn’t force his fingers to shoot back a reply. Instead, he slumped down in his seat, resisting the urge to rest his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Jungkook sat across from him, his leg bouncing, buzzing with nervous energy. Namjoon was next to him, sitting up straight, taking even breaths, trying so hard to hold it together.

There was an empty seat next to Jungkook, one saved for Jimin, and two more on the other side of Namjoon, undisputedly meant for Jin and Hoseok.

Taehyung tried to breathe like Namjoon but the silence was so heavy, it was crushing him.

And then, after an hour had passed in terrible silence, there was the sound of double doors. As they had _every time_ they heard the door, all four heads turned to see if it was for them.

Jung Hoseok walked out, his face busted up and his arm in a sling, and it was like a flood light had been activated in a pitch-dark room. His mom was by his side, looking tired and sad, and the four boys in the waiting room ran to him like bats out of hell in an unconscious race to see who could get to him first.

With the way he was standing, it seemed like his entire body hurt, so a bear hug, Hoseok’s preferred method of greeting his friends, was out of the question. Instead, they all came to a stop before him, sneakers screeching against the bright white linoleum, trying to keep their distance while letting the love in their eyes speak for itself.

“You’re okay,” Namjoon breathed, the relief in his voice the first sign that he felt anything that night other than the crushing responsibility of caring for the rest of the them.

“I’m okay,” Hoseok confirmed. His mom was still by his side but he gave her a look and she seemed to understand, bowing her head and moving instead to the front desk to handle discharge paperwork.

“How’d you get processed so fast?” Yoongi asked.

“Mom knew somebody,” he said, “and pulled some strings.” Hoseok’s mother, a nurse in a hospital two towns over, sometimes worked her magic for them. Once, Jungkook hurt his shoulder at wrestling practice but the people in the emergency room that day didn’t consider him to be a priority. After spending forty minutes in agony, Jungkook asked Hoseok to text his mother. She made one call and suddenly Jungkook was a VIP.

“What’s the damage?” Namjoon’s voice was soft and he took a step closer, visibly fighting the urge to put a hand tenderly on Hoseok’s shoulder.

“Broken arm,” he said and then, with his good hand, pointed to his face, “and some minor wounds to my money-maker.” His bottom lip was swollen and stitched and a small butterfly bandage seemed to be the only thing holding together an inch-long gash above his right eyebrow. Patches of red and purple around his nose and cheekbones told a painful story and they could all tell just by looking at him that he was going to be puffy and sore in the morning.

Jungkook swallowed hard and asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“And Jin-hyung?”

Hoseok shook his head, a bad sign.

“I really don’t know,” he said quietly. “They took him to surgery but that’s the last thing they told me.”

“Surgery?” Taehyung’s voice sounded far-off and tinny to his own ears, and he felt the last of the color drain from his face. “Jin’s in surgery?”

Nodding, Hoseok said, “He’s really hurt, you guys. They said something about his brain bleeding.”

Jungkook’s reaction was the most notable, a sharp inhale, the quiver of his lower lip and the way he linked his hands behind his head. He’d always been the worst at hiding how he felt. Transparency, Taehyung figured, that had something to do with his age.

“He’ll be okay,” Namjoon said, placing a large, authoritative hand softly on Jungkook’s back. “This is a good hospital with good doctors. He’ll be okay.”

Taehyung felt a lot of things. Mostly, though, he felt a sudden onset of vertigo. It felt like the room had slanted sharply to the left and he was about to roll down to follow it.

“Why did _you_ walk away with just a broken arm?” Taehyung demanded, his voice still sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. His tone was accusatory but that hadn’t been Taehyung’s intention. He didn’t have enough of a steady cognitive presence in that moment to have _any_ intention.

A beat passed, and then: “Because I was wearing my seatbelt.”

“Why wasn’t Jin?” Yoongi asked.

Hoseok patted his chest.

“Lacrosse injury,” he reminded them.

A wave of understanding fell over the group. A week earlier, in a game of intramural lacrosse with his college team, Jin had taken a hard hit to the upper body. He didn’t break anything but he was left with a wicked bruise in the center of his chest. Seatbelts, as it turned out, hurt him like sleeping on his stomach and wearing his messenger bag did.

“That stubborn fucking idiot,” Yoongi said, mostly to himself.

By that point, Hoseok’s mother had returned to the group. She was looking at her son with the utmost worry and care.

“You need to go home and get some rest,” she said.

“I already told you,” Hoseok hissed through gritted teeth. “I appreciate your help _and_ your concern, but I’m not leaving him.” He gestured to the four boys and said, “I’m not leaving them. I need to wait for Jin.”

They exchanged a look, a sort of wordless, mother-to-son telepathy occurring where they could have a conversation without speaking (Hoseok always _had_ been really close with his mom) and then she conceded. Nodding, she said, “You boys go get comfortable in the waiting room and I’ll see what I can find out.”

Hoseok nodded back, a gesture of gratitude, his eyes closing for just a second to reveal the earnestness of his thanks and appreciation.

When they sat again, the configuration was different, as was the actual seats they chose. That time, wanting to stake their claim, the boys took the corner seats beneath one of the TV screens. Jungkook sat with his back to the window, his hands shoved into his pockets. Yoongi was next to him, directly beneath the TV screen where he could easily see the double doors that led back to the rest of the hospital. Hoseok sat beside Yoongi, resting his head on the off-white wall behind him.

Namjoon broke the pattern, sitting in the second row of seats in a chair across from Hoseok. Taehyung, who instinctually sat next to Namjoon, thought that was fitting. Of course Namjoon would want to sit across from Hoseok. He needed to keep an eye on him, make sure he wasn’t too tired or too hurt or too _anything_.

“This is a real sorry group of guys right here,” Yoongi said, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Where’s Jimin?” Namjoon asked, nodding his chin at Jungkook.

“Should be here within the hour,” Jungkook said sullenly.

The black cloud of sorrow and misery that hung above all their heads was largely unfamiliar. They’d been through shit before but it was nothing like this. It never involved just sitting around and waiting, not knowing the fate of one of their best friends. Nine times out of ten, they could _do_ something to help, could do or say something to fix it. But this bigger than anything they’d ever faced – and they didn’t even know what was _happening_ yet.

At Taehyung’s somewhat abrasive prompting, Hoseok did his best to piece together what had happened.

A little after ten, he and Jin had left Hoseok’s basement-slash-bachelor-pad to get a late, greasy dinner. Both students at the local college, their spring break hadn’t quite started yet. Hoseok had enrolled as a full-time student studying biology the year before but Jin had recently switched from part-time to full as he really wanted to get his psychology degree without putting it off any further.

Hoseok said he couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about.

“Probably Youngji,” Hoseok joked, laughing a little and then wincing like maybe he had some bruised ribs he wasn’t telling them about. “You know how Jin is always talking about Youngji.”

(Taehyung grunted, annoyed. Were these details necessary? Youngji was Jin’s on-again, off-again, sort-of, kind-of girlfriend and everyone knew he liked to talk about her. Was this crucial to the story?)

They had just made it into the intersection and then a huge noise and huger impact. The car flipped. Hoseok couldn’t recall anything specific. It was loud and rough and everything seemed to hurt all at once. The car flipped multiple times before coming to a stop on the grass. He didn’t lose consciousness, though his eyes had apparently been squeezed shut.

When he opened them, Hoseok realized that Jin wasn’t next to him.

“He was ejected from the car?” Jungkook asked, his voice cracking.

Hoseok’s responding nod was somber.

Everyone reacted in their own way, each of them picturing the grotesque scene in their head to varying degrees of accuracy.

Namjoon bit his lip, looking away so that none of the guys could see how much he wanted to cry. Jungkook burst into tears, trying to hide it with a sharp inhale, but it was impossible to pretend he wasn’t weeping. Yoongi, putting on a brave face, reached over and put his hand on the back of Jungkook’s neck.

“He’s going to be fine,” he said sternly. “Deep breaths, Kook.”

Taehyung, meanwhile, was one shallow breath away from hyperventilating. He saw it so clearly in his mind’s eye, his best friend being thrown from the shattered windshield of his beloved Corvette. He’d saved up every cent he earned since 9th grade to buy that thing and now it was shattered, just like Jin.

Taehyung imagined it so vividly, his best friend’s broken body laying among dingy grass and shattered glass, bleeding and wounded and crying out for help. Did he cry? Or was he already unconscious? How bad were his injuries? Did he break bones? Or was it more severe than that? Internal bleeding? Damage to his organs? His spine? Would he ever be able to walk again? Would he be able to eat solid foods?

Would he survive the night?

Was he already dead?

Taehyung made a noise, halfway between a gasp and a gag, and Namjoon turned to look at him more closely.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asked quietly enough that only Taehyung could hear him.

Taehyung shook his head, his vision almost as fuzzy as his head.

“Not really,” he admitted. He tried to take a deep breath but it felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out. He opened his mouth to say something else, or maybe just to start screaming, but Hoseok’s mother picked that moment to return.

The look on her face told the group that she did not come bearing good news.

“Seokjin _is_ in surgery,” she said, the only person other than Jin’s parents who called him by his full first name.

“What kind of surgery?” Yoongi asked calmly.

Hoseok’s mom hesitated.

“Brain surgery,” she admitted. “He had a good deal of head trauma when he was ejected.” She inhaled, looking like she wanted to put off what she was about to say for as long as possible, and then said, “Boys, Seokjin’s brain is bleeding. Even if they can fix the bleed during surgery, with head trauma comes swelling. And swelling of the brain is very serious. They may need to put him in a coma afterwards to protect him long-term.”

If Jungkook had been crying before, he was sobbing now, and Yoongi wasted no time in wrapping him in a protective hug, cradling Jungkook’s head against his chest. Namjoon swore, something he didn’t usually do in the company of adults, and dropped his head. Hoseok looked like he was trying to talk himself out of running into his mother’s comforting arms, and Taehyung felt like he was going to drop to the floor right there.

A lot of talking followed but, like before, Taehyung couldn’t hear any of it. It was white noise again, rushing water or whale songs or some other completely senseless racket that couldn’t possibly be translated into anything. He wanted to cover his ears, drop his head between his knees and block out every last decibel but he couldn’t very well do that without alarming his _already alarmed_ friends and drawing some sort of additional, unnecessary panic.

And so, Taehyung did just about the only thing he knew how to do.

As calmly as possible, he stood up, muttering to whoever could hear him over the white-noise-and-whale-songs that he needed to use the bathroom. He walked slowly, evenly, knowing better than to draw any undue attention to himself, and then, when he was far enough away that he was out of sight, he started running.

He ran out the front door, through the dark parking lot and made a beeline for his truck.

He’d been smart about it. This wasn’t his first time running from something. Before he’d stood up and excused himself, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and between the cushions of his chair. His friends would find it eventually – Namjoon in particular had a habit of catching onto Taehyung’s game very quickly – but for now, he’d bought himself some time.

He could breathe easier as soon as he was in the cab of his truck. Tearing off his sweatshirt and throwing it to the passenger’s seat (he was sweating profusely – why hadn’t he realized that inside?), he lowered the windows and peeled out of the parking lot, careful not to mow down any already-injured people seeking assistance.

Where was he going? He hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

It wasn’t quite four in the morning and so the sky was still dark and inky, a murky coat of ignorance that blanketed their sleepy town. Everyone else who needed to would hear about Jin and Hoseok’s accident in the morning. The sun would come up. People would check their phones. They’d have firsthand texts from Namjoon, or secondhand information from the people Namjoon told.

Had anyone told Jin’s kind-of girlfriend?

Taehyung might have, maybe, if he’d still had his phone, and if he didn’t have weird, cranky, jealousy-type feelings regarding everything Youngji. It wasn’t that he had feelings for Jin. It wasn’t a romantic jealousy. If anything, it was petty, juvenile, why-are-you-spending-all-your-time-with-a-girl-and-not-your-best-friend jealousy, the kind you’d find running rampant among middle school cafeterias.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want Jin to date and be happy. But being a senior in high school was hard enough without having your lifelong best friend suddenly drop you like a hot potato. Taehyung understood that Youngji was important and college was crucial but Jin didn’t have to just up and disappear like that. He didn’t have to just forget about him. That was why Taehyung had gotten so _mad_ on Monday. That was why he’d exploded, why he’d gone off on Jin so harshly, why he’d said those things, why–

No. Taehyung stopped himself. This was dangerous territory, emotionally speaking. He didn’t want to think about the fight, _couldn’t_ think about the fight, couldn’t think about what could potentially be the last words he ever spoke to his best friends. His shock was turning into guilt, and that was turning into a blind panic.

He inhaled so sharply it stung his nose and then swallowed the huge, wiry lump in his throat.

He was running away from all that – from the fight, from his friends, from the waiting room, from the reality of what had happened, from Jin. He was running (well, technically speaking, he was _speeding_ ) away from what was back there, so why let it clog up his ead?

He turned onto the highway without thinking about it, letting better memories guide him the way the GPS app on his long-forgotten phone never could. By the time the sun came up, he’d be long gone, wrapped up in a blanket of safe nostalgia, and none of this would be able to find him, let alone touch him.

It was another forty minutes before they noticed he was gone.

Jungkook noticed first, but hadn’t pieced it all the way together. He looked up around the twenty-minute mark, the tears on his cheek finally beginning to dry, and noticed Taehyung’s seat was empty. He thought he knew Taehyung fairly well, knew him well enough to know that Taehyung didn’t deal with certain types of stress so well, and figured that he was wandering around, trying to get his head together.

It wasn’t until Hoseok got up to pee (that wouldn’t be easy in his current state of all-over-broken-and-bruised) and Yoongi went outside to meet Jimin in the parking lot that Namjoon figured out what was happening. Jungkook was still in his original spot, having finally calmed himself down, and Namjoon went to sit in Taehyung’s seat, wanting to check in with the youngest and make sure he wasn’t too upset.

As soon as he sat down, though, his thigh brushed up against something hard.

The corner of Taehyung’s phone.

It only took him four seconds to figure it out.

“How long has Taehyung been gone?” Namjoon asked, looking up at Jungkook.

Checking his watch, Jungkook said, “Almost forty minutes.”

Namjoon’s head dropped back. He exhaled roughly and looked up at the stucco ceiling, anticipating the trouble this would bring.

“Fuck,” he said simply.

“Fuck?” Jungkook parroted blankly.

Namjoon waited until Hoseok got back from the bathroom before he shared the conclusion he’d reached.

“Taehyung ran away,” he said.

Jungkook was slower to catch on but Hoseok recognized it immediately for what it was.

“Shit,” he said. “Where do you think he went this time?”

Namjoon shrugged, and then the sound of impending footsteps drew everyone’s attention. Yoongi was approaching with Jimin, a sight that immediately washed the others in a small but well-appreciated serenity.

“You made it,” Jungkook said, breathing a sizable sigh of relief and already forgetting the new trouble with Taehyung.

“Of course I made it,” Jimin said, holding out one arm so that Jungkook could lovingly and familiarly fit himself against Jimin’s side. “What’s happening?”

“We lost Taehyung,” Namjoon said, speaking more to Yoongi than anyone.

“We lost Taehyung?” Jimin repeated back, looking blank, confused.

“He ran away, left his phone. I bet if you checked the parking lot, you would not see his Ranger.”

“Oh, Christ,” Yoongi sighed.

“What do you mean he ran away?” Jungkook asked, his brain finally catching up with his ears.

“Like when his parents got divorced,” Jimin reminded him gently, “and Taehyung packed a bag and lived at the park for three days.”

“The kid doesn’t handle stress well,” Namjoon said, sighing. “It’s likely that he just–”

“Boys!” Hoseok’s mom shouted across the waiting room. Jungkook didn’t even know she was still at the hospital, figuring she’d gone home to get some rest by now. “Seokjin’s parents are here. He’s out of surgery and the doctor has news.”

They practically tripped over themselves getting to the elevator.

As it turned out, hospitals were home to all sorts of waiting rooms. The one on the first floor, where they’d all been, was the one attached to the emergency room. If they’d just been looking for Hoseok, that would’ve been the right place.

The intensive-care unit, as it happened, had its very own waiting area for the friends and families of people with much more extensive, much more severe injuries.

Like Kim Seokjin, who’d made it out of surgery with one less brain-bleed than he’d had going in but now needed to spend some time in medically-induced coma until the swelling inside his skull went down and he was no longer at a serious risk of brain damage.

It was a lot to take in.

They all sat together – the boys, Hoseok’s mom, Jin’s parents – in the special waiting room and listened to two doctors explain a laundry list of Jin’s injuries. Besides the obvious trauma to his brain, Jin had three broken ribs, two broken fingers, a whole slew of cuts and bruises and a small bleed in his gut that they were hoping would fix itself.

They all listened intently, Namjoon resisting the urge to take notes. Jungkook sat beside Jin’s mother, the both of them crying quietly as the doctors gave their speech, and tried to absorb at least a little of what they were saying.

Most of Jin’s injuries, including the internal bleed, were most likely to heal without a problem. The biggest issue was his brain. The swelling had been substantial and there was no way to tell if it left him with permanent damage.

“In a few days,” said the older of the two doctors, “when the swelling goes down, we will take him out of his coma.”

“And then?” Namjoon prompted, anticipating something greater.

“And then we wait and see,” the younger doctor continued. “We wait for Jin to wake up and we see if the swelling did any real damage to his brain.”

The response to that was emotional, even Min Yoongi needing to take a minute to compose himself. The doctors backtracked a little, explaining that Jin was young, healthy and strong and that all of those things made him a great candidate for a full recovery, but then they were called away on another case and told the group that they’d be back as soon as they could to update them.

Jin’s parents were allowed to go back and see him but no one else.

Not yet.

While Jin’s parents and Hoseok’s mother sat in the ICU’s waiting room and prayed, Namjoon discreetly asked the boys to step out into the hallway.

“Alright,” he said, a shaky sigh leaving his throat. “We need to go find Taehyung.”

“Agreed,” said Yoongi. “He needs to be here.”

“Should we go in shifts?” Jimin asked, cocking his head to the side. He’d just turned seventeen, meaning he would finally be able to participate in a Taehyung-recovery mission without needing someone else to go with him.

“Makes the most sense,” Namjoon confirmed, nodding. “Some of us stay here while others go look for him.”

“Why would we go look for him?” Jungkook asked bitterly, not fully hearing how harsh his words sounded in the empty hallway. “He made the choice to leave.”

“That’s just Taehyung,” Namjoon said, his tone already forgiving. “He gets upset and he runs away. I don’t blame him. Jin’s his best friend.”

“Of course, he’s his best friend!” Jungkook snapped, his words reverberating off the clean, white walls and drawing the attention of a nurse who didn’t seem particularly surprised. Outbursts like that probably happened all the time in the ICU. “He’s all of our best friend! Jin is the best! He’s the best at everything! He’s the best friend any of us have ever had! And now that he needs us, I mean _really_ needs us, where’s Taehyung? Huh? Where the fuck _is_ he?” He threw his hands up flagrantly, expectantly, looking at the face of each of his friends and waiting for a good response. None came. There wasn’t anything much to say. “Fuck Taehyung,” Jungkook summarized, shaking his head. “If he cares that much, he’ll find his own way back. I’m not looking for him.”

Jungkook stormed off in the direction of the elevators, muttering to himself the entire way before eventually disappearing around a corner.

Namjoon sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Jimin said, putting his hand reassuringly on Namjoon’s shoulder. “He’s just upset.”

“We all are,” Hoseok muttered.

“I’ll take the first shift,” Yoongi volunteered seamlessly, raising a sleeve-covered hand. “I have an idea of where he might be.”

Namjoon’s responding look – exasperated and grateful – was genuine.

“Thank you,” he said.

Yoongi walked towards the other set of elevators, probably not wanting to risk getting tied up with Jimin and Jungkook. When Hoseok and Namjoon were alone, Hoseok reached out his good hand and lightly punched Namjoon’s elbow.

“Hyung,” he said. “We’re both wiped out. Why don’t we get some coffee or some food from the cafeteria?”

Namjoon peered up, tears threatening to spill from the corner of his dark eyes. What he felt for Hoseok in that moment, besides pity for his injuries, was nothing short of pride.

“You’re all banged up,” Namjoon said with a dry, humorless laugh. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Why are you looking after _me_?”

Hoseok smiled, warm and earnest despite the situation, and said, “Because someone has to.” He hit Namjoon again and then nodded his chin to the sign that told them where everything – from radiology to the cafeteria to the nurse’s lounge – was located in reference to where they were. “Come on, hyung. There’s nothing we can do now but wait.”

* * *

By the time early sunlight filled the grey sky and turned it baby blue, Taehyung had reached his destination. Well, his first destination. He was planning to start his day here and then work his way back. And when he came to the end of his list, when he was out of places to go, well, he’d figure that out when he got there.

They’d gone camping here last summer, all seven of them. They lived in a beach town, a tourist trap that was quiet until Memorial Day weekend and stayed busy until Labor Day, and there were three separate beaches that were just a short drive away from all of their houses. So why had they driven seventy-four miles away to camp at _this_ beach?  It was simple. They were sick of the beaches in their town.

They’d all grown up there, dopey little kids in neon green rash-guards and ill-fitting swim trunks. They had shark-shaped boogie boards and coolers full of sandwiches and sodas. They swam and kicked sand and played football and went home with blistering shoulders because they always seemed to forget to pack sunscreen.

And it was fun. It was childhood, adolescence. It was part of life.

Seokjin and Namjoon were friends first. Their families had been friends before they were born. When Namjoon was in third grade, he met Yoongi, and Yoongi got along fine with Seokjin, so it became a trio. With Yoongi came Hoseok, a loud little kid who lived next door to him. Then came Taehyung who met Seokjin when they went to the same basketball camp. Jin was a junior in high school when they met Jimin, the class-clown in Taehyung’s seventh grade Spanish class. Jungkook was last and his introduction was the most straightforward.

“I have a friend,” Jimin had said a few months after he started to hang out with the group, “named Jungkook. He’s only eleven but he’s mature for his age. He’s kind of a loner, doesn’t have many friends besides me. Can I invite him over sometime?”

The varying ages never posed a problem for them. When Jungkook was eleven, Jin was already seventeen. Most high schoolers would have a problem spending their free time with a sixth grader, but not Jin, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi. They didn’t care. When they were together, just the four of them, they drank and swore and talked about girls. When they were with the younger guys, they toned it down slightly. And then, as the youngsters aged up, things changed. The dynamics and the conversations were adjusted accordingly. And now, after all these years, they saw Jungkook as one-of-the-guys. It didn’t matter that he was sixteen and Jin was twenty-two. They’d grown up together.

They were family.

Taehyung sat in his truck, perched on the edge of his seat, with his arms crossed over the steering wheel. Not wanting to waste gas, he’d killed the engine and lowered the windows, watching as the sun crept up from the horizon. He stayed there quietly, thinking, until the sun was higher in the sky.

Probably nine AM, he guessed. He didn’t have his phone and he wasn’t wearing a watch. He’d been sitting for a few hours, but it didn’t feel like it. Sometimes Taehyung’s mind got away from him. It had been easier to ignore, easier to cope with when he was young, and only seemed to be getting worse as he got older. It was hard to focus sometimes, hard to keep his thoughts in one place.

And when something bad happened? When his parents got divorced or when they thought Jimin was moving away, it was next to impossible. It felt like his mind was full of storm clouds, dark and thick, and staying in one spot for too long only encouraged strikes of blue lightning. That was how he’d felt in the hospital. It was like he was being suffocated from the inside out. He couldn’t hear what his friends were saying, couldn’t make his brain make sense of the words he’d otherwise be able to understand.

It was worrisome. He knew that Namjoon, in particular, worried about him. Taehyung had gotten high once and, between giggles and fistfuls of popcorn, had opened up to Namjoon about what it was like in his head, about the storm clouds and the cracks in his understanding and about the way his thoughts got twisted and his words got tripped up. Days later, when he was straight and sober, Namjoon had brought it up, insisted gently that Taehyung see someone, a professional, about it, but Taehyung just laughed him off.

“It’s no big deal,” he’d said. “My mind is twisted up, but that’s what makes me _me_.”

It was already a warm day. It was a beautiful day, in fact. Not a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and soon, Taehyung knew, the boardwalk would be filled with people, happy families and screaming kids and lovey-dovey couples holding hands. He’d blend in with them, slip into the crowd and pretend he was normal like them, and walk around, remembering. The ghosts of him and his friends were lingering on this boardwalk, playing rigged carnival games and riding dangerous rides and eating greasy foods. (Frankly, he’d never been into the whole summer boardwalk scene but it made the other guys happy so he’d always gone along with it.)

It was only April, though, so most of the game booths and smaller food stands wouldn’t be open yet. The arcade would be, along with the gift shops and the bigger restaurants hoping to make a profit off the spring break crowd, but it wouldn’t be the same.

That was okay, Taehyung decided. He didn’t need it to be the same.

It was nearly ten when he got out of the truck. He put his sweatshirt back on before climbing out of the driver’s seat, wanting to use its hood to cover his messy hair. He hadn’t had time to brush it and he hadn’t had the foresight to bring a hat.

As soon as his feet were on the planks, he could smell salty air and fried dough. April or not, he and his nose were transported to back to summer nights. He wasn’t even thinking about _this_ boardwalk. There was another one just like it back in their town. It just needed to _look_ the same to serve its purpose, and that was to stir up old memories.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Taehyung started to walk. He passed the Ferris wheel, and it looked just like the one back home where Jungkook had gotten his first kiss (all the guys had secretly followed Jungkook on this date, worried about the kid who was so damn nervous to be going out with the girl of his dreams). He walked by an arcade and thought back to when Jin had spent thirty-seven dollars and forty-five minutes trying to win an enormous stuffed Pikachu for Namjoon’s birthday. (Ultimately, he walked away with a medium-sized Bulbasaur and a picture on Lucky Leo’s wall-of-shame for kicking the machine and cursing at a teenage employee.)

Eventually, the sun proved too much, Taehyung’s black hoodie acting like a heat magnet and making him sweat. He took it off, tied it around his waist and continued to pace from one end of the boardwalk to the other, participating in a combination of people-watching and memory-chasing.

When his stomach started to growl, he stopped a kiosk called Bernie’s Steaks. He was surprised it was open so early, given its size, but Bernie’s Steaks was something of a cultural staple in this part of the state so he chocked it up to simple supply-and-demand. Regardless of the season, people wanted to eat there. (Taehyung had never been to this particular boardwalk in the off-season so he couldn’t confirm that but through the tangled, short-circuiting wires of his mind, it made sense.)

He ordered a loaded cheesesteak – onions, pepper, three different cheeses – and gravy fries. It wasn’t his favorite thing on the menu but it was Jin’s usual order and in that moment, Taehyung just needed to feel close to his friend. He sat on a weather-worn bench facing the beach and ate every last bite, watching teal waves rise and break and against the shore.

He sat there for a while with his garbage in his lap, wishing he’d grabbed napkins because his hands were greasy. Eventually, a woman sat beside him. She had a stroller but from the angle, Taehyung couldn’t see inside. That was a shame – he really liked babies.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “What time is it?”

She was wearing one of those fancy fitness watches and pulled up her sleeve to check it.

“Quarter to eleven,” she said.

He figured it was time to go, then. He had a bit of a drive back into town, and still a bunch more places to stop. He thanked her, found a garbage can, and wiped his hands on his jeans, trying to remember where he’d parked. 

* * *

 

Yoongi checked the ice rink first. Since it was so late (or, technically, so early), he knew Taehyung wouldn’t have been able to get inside. Still, maybe he was sitting in the parking lot or wandering around the outside rink. There was probably something eerie about an abandoned hockey rink at five in the morning and Taehyung probably would have been drawn to that.

But Yoongi came up empty handed.

They’d all played sports as kids but only Jin and Jungkook had ever been good at them. Jin had stuck with lacrosse and the occasional pickup baseball game. Jungkook, meanwhile, played hockey. Since he was only sixteen and couldn’t drive yet, and because he had a single mom who worked two jobs, the older guys all took turns driving him to practice and to games. That in itself had become something of a tradition, the old guys taking care of the young guns. But the hockey rink had food and videogames and pretty girls, so the boys usually stuck around. It had become something of a hangout spot for them and Yoongi thought that maybe Taehyung was trying to immerse himself in the good times.

It was a good guess, but it was wrong. There wasn’t a single car in the lot and the whole place gave Yoongi the creeps. After he made his rounds, he got back into his car, locking the doors in case any weird, hockey-playing ghosts wanted to come rattle him.

He gave the place one last look before he drove away, thinking back to the time that Jungkook’s last-second slapshot had broken a tie and taken the JV team to the championships game. They ended up losing that one in overtime but Jungkook was a rockstar at their school for two weeks straight. Jin and Taehyung had been so proud of them, and Yoongi would never forget the way they all cheered and how much fun they had celebrating afterwards.

It was a good memory. If he was Taehyung, he’d be trying to bury himself in the warmth of nostalgia, too. But he wasn’t Taehyung. He was Min Yoongi and that meant he had a job to do and he didn’t have time to sit there and remember the good times. Every minute he spent in that parking lot gave Taehyung more time to wander around the state.

Yoongi checked two more places – the lake with the paddleboats Taehyung liked and the mini mall with the picnic table out front. But Taehyung wasn’t there, either, so Yoongi sighed heavily, said a bad word and drove back to the hospital.

They still weren’t allowed to see Jin. Hoseok’s mom had gone home to get some sleep and Jin’s parents hadn’t come back from the far part of the ICU. Yoongi had come back to report his findings (or lack thereof) and then went home to take a shower and change his clothes. Sometime around nine-thirty Hoseok had fallen asleep sitting up after a decent cafeteria breakfast burrito and Namjoon had taken off his jacket and draped it over Hoseok’s body like a blanket. Jimin had tried all night to convince Jungkook to help look for Taehyung but the youngest was stubborn and angry and hurt and so it did no good. The ICU’s waiting room was empty (good news for everyone involved, Namjoon figured) and when Jimin got up to stretch his legs and get coffee from the vending machine, Namjoon sat next to Jungkook.

“Yoongi’s on his way back,” Namjoon said, gesturing with his phone. “He’s bringing a change of clothes for you. He’s kind of upset that he couldn’t find Taehyung.” Jungkook nodded slowly, too pissed to answer but too polite to ignore him and Namjoon added, “Do you have any ideas?”

“I’m not _going_ ,” Jungkook said, not turning his head to look Namjoon in the eyes. “Jin needs me here.”

“Taehyung needs you _there_ ,” Namjoon countered seamlessly. “And, if we’re being totally honest, Jin needs you out there, too.”

Jungkook glared at him, studying Namjoon’s eyes for meaning.

“How do you figure?”

“No one loves Taehyung as much as Jin,” he said simply. “No one worries about him so much. If it was any one of us laying in that bed instead of Jin, Taehyung would still be missing and Jin would be circling the wagons to find him. He’d be making fliers and paying strangers to help look for him. And that wouldn’t just be for Taehyung. It would be for any one of us. If you got up to pee and didn’t tell him, Jin would knock down walls to find you because he’d be so worried you were in trouble. That’s just how he is, and how this group is.” Namjoon shrugged, wishing so badly to be as calm and as casual as he looked and sounded. “We look out for each other, Kook. That’s how this works.”

“He’s being an ass,” Jungkook said after a moment. He’d been staring at the same point on the wall for an hour and was surprised he hadn’t burned a hole through it with his eyes. “He’s being a selfish ass. We need him here and he’s out running around like a child. I thought _I_ was supposed to be the baby of this group.”

Unexpectedly, Namjoon laughed, surprising both of them.

“You definitely are,” Namjoon said. He considered pinching Jungkook’s cheeks to break the tension but didn’t, realizing it might just upset the kid more. “But Taehyung is different, you know?” With two fingers, Namjoon tapped his temple. “Taehyung’s got demons in his head. Everything’s all twisted up. He gets stressed and when it gets to a certain level, he runs away. It’s not the healthiest solution, or the most helpful, but he’s not strong like you, Kook. He doesn’t know how to ground himself. You’re young but you’re a rock. Taehyung? He’s more like a feather. A strong enough breeze takes him away. And sometimes, he needs us to find him and bring him back. You weigh a feather down with enough rocks and it’ll stay put even in a hurricane, you know?”

Namjoon raised his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. It wasn’t very good but, then again, what did he expect? A hospital cafeteria isn’t exactly Starbucks.

“I get that you don’t want to help us find him,” Namjoon said when he got sick of the silence. “You’re pissed and you have every right to be. We’ll find him. You can stay here and hold down the fort.”

“No,” Jungkook interrupted softly. “I’ll go with Jimin. I think I have an idea where he might be anyway.”

Namjoon smiled. It was a sad smile, but one full of pride. He reached over and put a hand on the back of Jungkook’s head and said, “Jin’s going to be really proud of you when he wakes up.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook said quietly, then composed himself and stood up. “Call me if anything changes.”

Namjoon nodded and Jungkook left the waiting room to find Jimin. He was in the middle of kicking a vending machine when Jungkook found him.

“This fucking thing ate my money,” he said, grabbing each side and shaking as hard as his small frame would allow. “Give me my M&Ms, damn you!”

“Can I go with you to look for Taehyung?” Jungkook asked.

Jimin took a brief second to look over his shoulder in surprise before going back to assaulting the machine. Jungkook and his pride could sometimes be like a deer. If you spoke too loudly or made any sudden movements, you were likely to scare him off.

“Sure,” he said, not bothering to point out that Jungkook had spent all night pouting over _not_ wanting to go look for him. He didn’t even ask what made him suddenly see the light. It didn’t matter to Jimin. Good news was good news. Why poke at it? “Got any ideas where we should look?”

Nodding and moving closer so that he could help shake the machine, Jungkook explained, “Remember that time after Hoseok and Namjoon graduated when we were going to the city celebrate and Yoongi’s car broke down?”

Jimin smirked. That had been a fun weekend. The plan was to go into the city, see a show, take in the sights and do touristy things, but Yoongi’s car had barely gotten them out of town. The engine died in the middle of nowhere, leaving them with no choice but to stop in a tiny rural town that was barely on the map. Having all already cleared their schedule for two days, they kept their road trip going to the hotel down the road from the mechanic. They rented just two rooms – Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi in one and Jin, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook in the other – and spent forty-eight hours doing everything that itty-bitty town had to offer from bowling to something called cornhole.

“You’re thinking we should check East Bumble?”

Jungkook nodded again, giving the vending machine a body check worthy of a Stanley Cup game. The M&Ms shook free and Jimin squealed in delight.

“Yes,” he said. “Specifically, that hotel.”

Tearing open the package with his teeth and pouring candies into his hand, Jimin said, “Fine by me. East Bumble or bust.”

 

It was approaching lunchtime and Taehyung wished he’d brought a change of clothes. He’d been outside all day and he was pretty sure he was starting to stink. It was only April. Why was it so warm?

He was at the park on the edge of town and it was very busy. It was always busy when the weather was nice. Kids were playing sports, old ladies were sitting on benches and feeding ducks, teenagers were skateboarding. If Jin was awake (or alive – Taehyung really had no way of knowing if his best friend was even still breathing), he would have insisted they go for a nature walk or something. He was a regular mountain man trapped in the body of a handsome Asian kid who trapped in the suburbs.

It was a pity, really.

Nothing wildly exciting had ever happened to them in this park. Taehyung couldn’t think of a single milestone event that had happened there, couldn’t pinpoint one exceptional memory. They’d played soccer there, gotten ice cream from the truck that frequented the parking lot, just generally loitered on lazy weekends where they had nothing else to do.

They’d spent a lot of time at this park doing absolutely nothing and Taehyung wanted to get back to that feeling of sitting in the sun with his best friends, no responsibilities, no worries, no bad vibes. He wanted to get back to when he wasn’t so twisted up inside. He wanted to get back to when his best friend’s brain wasn’t bleeding. He just wanted to get back.

A group of boys, probably middle-schoolers, rode by on bikes and they reminded Taehyung of his friends. He wanted to tell them to be careful, to wear their helmets, to cherish these moments, but instead he just smiled and waved at the tall one who reminded him of Jin. 

* * *

 

Hoseok’s mom returned around dinnertime. Jimin and Jungkook were back by then but they had little to show for it. Taehyung wasn’t anyplace they’d checked and things were looking bleak. Taehyung had run away before but they’d always at least kind of had an idea where he was. This time, it seemed like he’d disappeared into thin air.

Hoseok took his mother aside and explained to her what was happening, that Taehyung had run off and they were all taking turns going to look for him.

“But I can’t exactly drive,” he said, gesturing to his broken arm. “Do you think maybe you’d be able to drive me? There’s someplace I want to check.”

Her smile was warm and understanding. Her son had walked away from a major accident with relatively minor injuries. The truth was, with as grateful as she was feeling that Hoseok was still alive, he could’ve asked her for anything and she would’ve done it for him.

“Of course,” she said. “Where are we going?”

“The park,” Hoseok said. “The one off Main.” 

* * *

 

Taehyung watched the sun go down from his favorite spot on the boardwalk. This was _their_ boardwalk, the one in their town, the one where they spent so much of their time once summer rolled around. There was no kiosk for Bernie’s Steaks but there was a doughnut shop Jin loved and a place to get milkshakes where the seven of them had probably spent over a thousand dollars in summers past.

He knew the sunset would be pretty. They lived on the wrong side of the country to watch the sun drop down into the water but with the wide, open skies over the beach, he got to see the world change colors for a few minutes. It was beginning to get chilly again now that that pesky fireball had descended and his sweat turned to shivers before he could wriggle back into his sweatshirt.

This boardwalk was deserted compared to the first but Taehyung figured that had to do with population density. Their town was simply smaller than the other. But it was fine. Taehyung didn’t really want to see anybody.

There was a locked gate that stood between him and the main entrance to the beach but it wasn’t a very good security system. Taehyung climbed over it and sighed when his feet hit the sand. He’d definitely have sand in his socks before the day was over.

One summer, on this very beach, Jin had decided he was going to be a surfer. The other six sat on the sand and laughed to the point of tears as Jin headed out with a rental board. He fell so many times, they were sure he was going to drown or at least get attacked by a mermaid or a jellyfish. It was weeks before he was even able to stand up on his board. But they were all there the day he caught his first wave, however small it may have been. They stood up and clapped, hooting and jeering and generally carrying on as their friend finally surfed to shore.

After that one successful wave, Jin gave up surfing. Apparently, he just wanted to say he’d done it.

Another time, they’d played volleyball until the beach closed, recruiting strangers to play with them until they had something like thirty people involved. Back when they were all still in school, they’d played hooky and come to this beach, laying in the sand and complaining about teachers and girls while they ate chips from the convenience store down the block.

This was Taehyung’s favorite spot. Not the boardwalk but the beach itself. This was his beach, _their_ beach. He hadn’t been here in months, an unfortunate side effect of growing up and spreading out, but he wished they’d made more of an effort. He wished they’d visited again sooner.

_Is Jin dead?_

It was an intrusive thought, one that popped up in the middle of his happy trip down memory lane, and it stopped Jin dead in his tracks. _Was_ Jin dead? He had no way of knowing. Kim Seokjin, his best friend in the world, could have been dead and he’d have no way of knowing. Maybe it was like Schrodinger’s cat. Jin was both dead and alive until Taehyung drove back to the hospital and found out for himself. All he’d have to do is stay on this beach for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, it felt like his stomach had been twisted into a knot. He ran back to the dark green garbage can near the beach entrance and threw up everything in his stomach. He wanted to blame Bernie’s Steaks but he had a creeping suspicion that it was something else.

He was pretty sure reality had just found him.

Tired from a lack of sleep and from all that vomiting, Taehyung staggered towards the water. He took off his hoodie and folded it into a pillow before dropping to the ground and making himself a bed in the sand.

He fell asleep as soon as his closed his eyes.

* * *

 

Around eight-fifteen, they were allowed to visit Jin.

There were conditions, of course, since visiting hours were over. Hoseok’s mom had pulled some more strings. Hoseok had looked so distraught when they couldn’t find Taehyung at the park and she felt like she needed to do _something_. Sometimes, moms just needed to step in and do something to cheer up their boy.

They were only allowed in one at a time. They had to be extremely quiet and they could only stay for five minutes. But the boys were so desperate to see Jin with their own eyes that they would’ve agreed to anything short of a blood sacrifice.

Hoseok went first. Jin was, of course, heavily sedated. He looked swollen, not like the handsome boy Hoseok had known for so many years, and Hoseok tried not to cry as he held Jin’s hand and whispered that he was okay, that they were both okay. Jungkook went second and cried the hardest. He didn’t get very close to the bed, afraid he’d accidently hurt Jin or step on a wire. Yoongi was next, keeping up a poker face as he quietly explained to Jin that they’d be in that waiting room every second until he woke up. Jimin was fourth. Trying to whisper, he made jokes and laughed at them. Jin had his favorite laugh in the world, squeaky and loud. If he was awake, he knew Jin would have laughed, too, and that comforted him.

Namjoon went last. He’d fallen asleep on the couch in the waiting room and no one wanted to wake him. He was the only one who hadn’t gotten any actual rest since the accident and the decision to let him sleep was unanimous. When he awoke, it was the middle of the night and everyone _else_ was sleeping. It was a timing thing, really. The only person awake was Hoseok’s mom and when she explained that they’d each been allowed a brief visit, he begged her to let him see Jin.

Apparently, there were a few tiny strings left to be pulled.

Even though it was three AM, Namjoon was granted a very quick visit. He just wanted to _see_ Jin, just wanted to hear the beeping of his heart monitor, just wanted to know his friend was alive. In the end, it was Jin’s parents that allowed it. They’d known Namjoon his whole life and five minutes alone with their son wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Both still awake, they stepped out to get coffee and Namjoon was left with Jin.

He held Jin’s hand and smiled sadly, quietly explaining that they were all out there waiting for him to wake up, but that Taehyung had flown the coup.

And then, because he knew Jin wouldn’t tell, Namjoon admitted something into the silence.

“I know where he is,” he whispered. “Of course I know where he is. I’m surprised nobody checked the beach. The truth is, I waited to be last to look for that reason. I knew where he was this whole time, but it didn’t do any of the other guys any good to sit here and worry themselves to death. So I let them go look for Taehyung, let them feel useful. It’s better than sitting in a cold, sterile waiting room, feeling helpless.” He squeezed Jin’s hand. “I know he’s your best friend and I know you want him here. I’m going to leave now and go get him. Please don’t do anything until we get back. Taehyung needs you.” Namjoon stood up and started to walk out but before he did, he looked over his shoulder. Jin was the guy they all looked up to. He was like Superman. Seeing him in a hospital bed, completely powerless, was strange and disheartening. “We all need you,” he whispered and then he left to get Taehyung.

* * *

 

Taehyung woke up but didn’t open his eyes.

The first thing he was aware of was the cold. His sweatshirt was under his head instead of on his body. Was he stupid or something? Why hadn’t he just slept in his hoodie? He didn’t want to get sand in his hair? He could have just put his hood up. Exhaustion was making him dumb.

The second thing he noticed was the smell of the ocean. But then, another smell. Something familiar.

Namjoon’s cologne.

Namjoon.

He opened his eyes slowly, ignoring the ache in his back from sleeping on the ground, and turned his head to the side. Namjoon was laying beside him, arms folded under his head.

“Beautiful morning,” he said casually. The sky was still grey but it was growing brighter by the second. Streaks of orange and gold were forming on the horizon and the sun wouldn’t be far behind.

“How’d you find me?” Taehyung asked. His voice was raspy, his mouth dry. His throat hurt and he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t had anything to drink in almost a full day.

“I know you,” Namjoon said, his deep voice sounding so smooth against the cold quiet. “Pretty well, apparently. Did you have a nice trip?” Taehyung nodded but didn’t speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Taehyung considered that.

“Is Jin–?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“He’s alive,” Namjoon confirmed and sat up, sand falling from his shirt, neck and head back down to the earth. “He’s in a coma but he’s alive.”

“We’ve had some good adventures, haven’t we?” Taehyung asked, rhetorical, ignoring what Namjoon had said. “The beaches, the boardwalks, the camping trips. We’re lucky. A lot of people don’t get to have the experiences we’ve had. And we’ve had so many.” He looked up at Namjoon, admiring the way he seemed to glow of the dawn. “I want to have more, Namjoon. And Jin needs to be there.”

Namjoon nodded. From the angle, Taehyung could only see his profile, but it was enough.

“Why’d you run?” Namjoon asked. “And don’t give me any bullshit. I really want to know, Taehyung. Why did you run away?”

Taehyung swallowed hard. He was feeling twisted again but he knew he had nothing left to throw up.

“A few days ago,” he began, “Jin and I had a fight. Not even a fight. A fight has two sides. I was mad at him but he wasn’t mad at me.”

“Why were you mad at him?”

“A lot of reasons,” Taehyung said, just above a whisper. “I was stressed out. School is tough. Looking at colleges is tough. Jin used to be my rock. I went to him for everything. Then, suddenly, he’s gone. I know he’s busy with school, switching from part-time to full-time and all that. I know he’s got a lot going on. He’s got school and work and Youngji. And he just… he forgot about me. He never had time to hang out, never had time to talk. I needed him and just disappeared. I know he’s busy but he didn’t have to disappear.”

“So you fought,” Namjoon prompted when Taehyung suddenly stopped speaking.

Tears had formed in the corners of Taehyung’s eyes and because he was still laying down, they rolled freely down his cheeks.

“So we fought,” Taehyung confirmed. “A little disagreement turned into a screaming match, only Jin wasn’t screaming. Just me. I lost it on him. I said horrible things, things I didn’t even mean. I just wanted to hurt him because he hurt me. The difference was I was hurting him on purpose. And he just sat there and took it. Didn’t yell back, didn’t defend himself, didn’t do anything. He just listened.” Taehyung choked on a sob. “My last words to my best friend were ‘I hate you.’”

Namjoon was quiet for a while. Taehyung needed to cry and nothing Namjoon could say would fix it. Eventually, when he calmed slightly, Taehyung spoke again.

“Jin is my best friend in the entire world. He knows everything about me. He was the first person I came out to. He was who I went to when my parents got divorced. He’s the only one who knows–”

– _that I’m in love with you_ , Taehyung’s brain finished.

He risked a look up at Namjoon.

Unbeknownst to him, Namjoon was trying with everything he had not to react in any way, trying not to blink or breathe or twitch.

He knew, too. He knew how Taehyung felt about him.

It wasn’t anything that Taehyung had done or said. Taehyung wasn’t trying to let Namjoon in on that secret for obvious reasons. Namjoon just… knew. Jimin did, too. He was one of the younger guys but he had this worldly quality to him, this sort of life experience. He knew things without being told. About two years before, he’d looked at Taehyung (who’d been looking at Namjoon) and he just knew. He could see it, clear as day. He didn’t say anything, of course. Taehyung wasn’t even out at the time. It was just something Jimin had realized and he kept it to himself. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

Taehyung swallowed hard.

“He knows it all,” he recovered. “He’s my best friend. How will he ever forgive me? How will I ever forgive myself? If he dies, and those were my last words to him, how am I supposed to keep going?”

“I can’t promise that he’ll survive this,” Namjoon said after a long pause. The sound of waves breaking against the sand was both comforting and discerning. While soothing, it felt intrusive, like the ocean and shells and the seagulls shouldn’t have been allowed to bear witness to this conversation, like it should have stayed between Namjoon and Taehyung and then died with them someday. “I’m not a doctor and I can’t speak to the likelihood that he’ll wake up and everything will be fine. But I’ve known Jin my whole life. And I’ve known you a long time, too. You two are best friends. Jin loves you like the sun loves the earth and he knows you didn’t mean what you said. You’re friends. Friends fight. But you can’t do anything for him if you’re here. He needs you there, Taehyung. He needs you in that hospital room, holding his hand. He needs to hear your voice. You need to go back there and you need to talk to him. You need to let him know that you’re his best friend and that you’re there for him. What if something happens? What if we lose him? What _do_ you want your last words to be?”

There was a pause. Another wave rolled and broke against the shore.

“I love you,” Taehyung said, but it was impossible to tell if he was talking about Jin or Namjoon.

“Go tell him,” Namjoon said quietly. “Get off this beach, and go tell your best friend that you love him.”

Namjoon stood up, took a step closer to Taehyung, and offered him his hand. Taehyung stared at it for half a second, but then took it and allowed himself to be pulled up and into a hug. Taehyung buried his face into Namjoon’s chest and cried, not caring how he looked or sounded or seemed, not caring that he was weak and broken and twisted. He wept and shook and let himself be _held_ and then when he was done, he let Namjoon wrap his arm around his shoulders and they walked back to their cars.

For a moment, he thought he felt the storm clouds in his mind break apart.

* * *

 

Taehyung didn’t leave Jin’s room for two days. The armchair by the wall pulled out into a cot and that was where Taehyung stayed. He barely ate, he barely slept, he barely spoke. When he did speak, it was usually to ask Jin’s parents if they needed anything. At one point on day three, Namjoon forced Taehyung to go home, shower and eat something that didn’t come out of a vending machine. But after that, he was back at the hospital. Not wanting to intrude on Jin’s parents too much, he set up camp in the ICU waiting room.

Those chairs were secretly beds, too.

It was spring break. He didn’t have school and he didn’t have a job. Besides, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The other guys stayed, too. They stayed in the waiting room. They slept in shifts. They played cards and read books and watched daytime television. They were there so often that they were making friends with the nurses. Taehyung was still terrified but he thought he was beginning to untangle. He had a long talk with Jungkook, apologizing for running away, and they forgave each other.

It was a horrible feeling, waiting around to see if their friend would ever wake up, but they were together. Hoseok was there, too, with bruises in every color. He was popping pain pills like they were Skittles but he was a champ, dropping his mom’s name whenever it seemed like they needed the staff to break the rules. Namjoon was on them, making sure everyone ate and slept and showered, and Jimin kept everyone laughing with stupid jokes and stories.

He was scared, but he was beginning to fell less twisted, and that was a good feeling.

On day five, he fell asleep on the waiting room couch. A rerun of an old sitcom had been playing on the TV and the hospital’s coffee wasn’t strong enough to keep him up. He drifted off, arms crossed over his chest, and then, a few hours later, Namjoon was shaking him awake.

It was kind of funny. The whole thing had started with Namjoon waking him up. That felt like it was months before, and it had only been a few days.

He opened his eyes and Namjoon was smiling down at him. It was something he could get used to.

“Wake up,” he said. “Come on, Taehyung. Wake up.”

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asked, struggling to sit up. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his unruly hair, looking around for a clock or any other sign of what time it was.

Namjoon was still smiling as he reached down and cupped Taehyung’s chin in his hand.

“It’s Jin,” Namjoon said quietly, his voice threatening to crack. “He’s awake.”

Taehyung felt his heart drop into his stomach. His vision went blurry for a minute, like he’d been temporarily blinded by a flash of light and needed to blink away the spots. He felt lighter, like he might fly away and break if Namjoon moved his hand.

He tried to remember how to speak, but the lump in his throat was making it difficult.

“He’s–?”

“He’s awake,” Namjoon repeated. There were tears in Namjoon’s eyes, something that didn’t happen very often. “Taehyung, he’s awake.”

Taehyung jumped up from the couch and into Namjoon’s arms, both of them jumping and crying and laughing without even realizing what they were doing.

Jin was alive.

Jin was awake.

Jin was okay.

And just like that, the storm clouds began to drift away. Just like that, the cracks in his mind began to fill. Just like that, he felt himself beginning to untangle.

He wasn’t twisted.

He was just Taehyung.  

And, just like Jin who’d beaten the odds and woken up with a smile on his face, he was going to be okay. They would all be okay, and they would all go on to have more road trips, more beach days, more senseless adventures.

And somehow, through tragedy and recovery, Taehyung felt like he was finally free.

And it was a good feeling.


End file.
